Time to Lay By

By Jay Mondy

Time To Lay By, is a collection of short stories, some humorous, some bizarre, but all true. For centuries storytellers were the only source of history. They told their tales, preserving history by handing their stories down from generation to generation. Without the storyteller, much of history would have been lost. Time To Lay By, recounts a way of life that was common in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Southeastern Kansas in the not too distant past. Once again, a part of history has been saved throught the words of the storyteller. There are stories of legal hangings, western men, moonshiners, bootlegging and many other topics too numerous to mention. These long ago stories are as they occurred back in days lost in the pages of time. They add to our knowledge of a fasciniating region and a way of life nearly forgotten. This book isn't just for the historians, but for anyone who is curious about the past or simply love a good book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Dec 9, 2010
• ISBN: 9781426948190

Jay Mondy

He stopped in old towns, libraries, churches, courthouses, historical societies, stores and peoples homes. He listened to the loggers, peace officers, Ozark grandmothers, farmers, historians and teachers. He visited locations where real folk hereos and outlaws were born. He listened to people tell their tales.

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© Copyright 2010 Jay Mondy.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 978-1-4269-4818-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4269-4819-0 (e)

Trafford rev. 11/29/2010

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North America & international

toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)

phone: [phone] fax: [phone]

The family of the late Jay Mondy would like to dedicate this book to him. Unfortunately, he did not live to see his book that he finished right before he passed away published. Therefore, his family had it published for him.

Jay wanted this book to be dedicated to his late and lovely wife, Doris Layton Mondy and to her good friend, Judy Brannan. The two of them encouraged him to take up the pen.

Table of Contents

Foreword

Preface

Introduction

Chapter One

UNIQUE STORIES

Chapter Two

WELL, I’LL BE

Chapter Three

THE GOOD OLD DAYS

Chapter Four

THEIR WORK WAS DEVINE

Chapter Five

LIFE OF RILEY

Chapter Six

BOOZE, BOOZE AND MORE BOOZE

Chapter Seven

LIGHT SIDE OF LIFE

Chapter Eight

LOOKING FOR TREASURES

Chapter Nine

FOR THE REST OF THE STORY

Chapter Ten

CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON

Chapter Eleven

WHOA NOW

Chapter Twelve

THE DAY THE ROOF FELL IN

Chapter Thirteen

THINGS DO HAPPEN

Chapter Fourteen

WAS IT MURDER?

Chapter Fifteen

GOD’S CREATURES

Chapter 16

HARD TIMES

Chapter Seventeen

WESTWARD, HO!

Chapter Eighteen

100 AND CLIMBING

Chapter Nineteen

UNUSUAL STORIES

Chapter Twenty

HORSE THIEVES

Chapter Twenty-One

MR. PRESIDENT

Chapter Twenty-Two

SHOW ME PEOPLE

Chapter Twenty-Three

SO IT WAS

Chapter Twenty-Four

AWE, SHUCKS

Chapter Twenty-Five

DO YOU REMEMBER

Chapter Twenty-Six

MATRIMONY PROBLEMS

Chapter Twenty-Seven

ODDS AND ENDS

Foreword

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Author’s Biography

Jay Mondy was born near Fisk, Mo, in Butler County, grew up in the cotton fields, attended a two-room elementary school and graduated from the Broseley High School. He received degrees from Arkansas State University and a specialist degree from University of Missouri at Columbia. Jay’s early life witnessed fistfights on Saturday night and hitchin’ posts in front of the general stores in Broseley, Fisk, and Quilin, MO. The next 30 years, except for a tour in the military, were spent teaching students in the elementary grades, working as a public school principal and superintendent. Jay was married to the late Doris (Layton) Mondy for 44 years. They were blessed with three lovely, good children, Kerry, Derek and Charisse. Concerning his military experience, he is quoted saying, I went to bed one night with my window open and woke up the following morning in the draft -a military draft, and it resulted in a two-year experience in the United States Army.

Time to Lay By comes from a life-long fascination with the true, unique and unusual stories of people in the Ozark Mountains. Some of the stories, he wrote, but the vast majority of them were unearthed through countless hours of research. Most of the stories were discovered in the Ozark Mountains. Some are from the foothills of the Ozarks and a few are Ozark related stories.

In addition to searching thousands of feet of microfilmed old newspapers, Jay visited many cities and county libraries, court houses, and historical societies in search of true, but unusual, tales that otherwise might have been lost in the pages of the past.

Preface

Jay Mondy has crossed and re-crossed the Ozarks, which covers parts of Missouri, Arkansas and Oklahoma. He has stopped in old towns (Potosi, MO; est. in 1763), libraries, churches, courthouses, historical societies, stores, and in people’s homes. He has listened to the loggers, peace officers, Ozark grandmothers, farmers, historians and teachers. In all locations where real folk heroes and outlaws were born, he has listened to people tell their tales. He has researched old newspapers, microfilm, old manuscripts, plus actual court records and legal documents. In the process, he has been able to uncover the truth concerning court trials, old style lynching’s, gunfights and murders in the Ozark Mountains.

Bob Sifford

Potosi, Missouri

It is with a great deal of enthusiasm that I recommend this book filled with true and authentic stories to the reader. The author has spent three years in devoted research in uncovering these interesting tales which have been lost in the pages of history.

Mr. Mondy’s many years of formal education as well as his experience of teaching in and administering to public schools make him eminently qualified to do painstaking research and to communicate his findings to others in an informative and sometimes humorous manner.

The reader should take this book, Time to Lay By, sit back, relax and enjoy theses revealing stories. The tales should stir memories and may shed some light on where the reader came from and what hardships the characters involved underwent. There are stories of legal hangings, western men, moonshiners, bootlegging and many other topics too numerous to mention in this preface. If however, I am positive that the reader will find every story to be a mixture of humorous, interesting and unique occurrences.

Mr. Mondy’s research included extensive viewing of old microfilms, visiting various libraries and reading published news items relating to each story. He also consulted with historical societies, county sheriffs and with many individuals he felt could shed more light on the story at hand.

The long ago stories are presented in this book as they occurred back in days lost in the pages of time. The book contains approximately one hundred forty five stories on a wide variety of topics of interest for all readers. The vast majority occurred in the Ozark Mountains with a few found in the foothills. They are all Ozark related. Please look at the second story in Time to Lay By. The title of this true story is Faithful as a Yellow Dog. Then I am sure you will be eager to find out more, just as I was.

Jack Lincoln Ph.D.

Poplar Bluff, MO

"Reading Mr. Mondy’s stories brought back fond memories of tales told to me on my grandfather’s knee. Imagination couldn’t be any more bizarre than true life.

I know readers of Mr. Mondy’s collection will be amazed and very appreciative of his efforts in researching and compiling these great, old, true stories."

Pat Higginbotham

Friend and Teacher

Lamar, Missouri

This book is a collection of great stories that takes you back in time and lets you relive many events we have all experienced. It is exciting and easy reading. Jay Mondy has given us an enjoyable book. This book will certainly have a place on my bookshelf. I recommend Time to Lay By" without hesitation. This collection of true and exciting stories is pure history of our times.

Jay Mondy’s background fits many of the stories. Jay married his childhood sweetheart, Doris Layton Mondy. She gave Jay great encouragement throughout her life and they raised three great children, Kerry, Derek and Charisse.

Jay was an outstanding basketball player in his youth, the star of his high school team. Because of his height he could really rack up the points. Jay spent most of his life working for the children of Southeast Missouri. He began as a teacher and later a principal and then superintendent of a large reorganized school district.

You will enjoy this book. It will bring back many happy memories."

James J. Rickman

Superintendent Emeritus

Fox C6 School District

Arnold, Missouri

"From the beginning, man’s history was passed from generation to generation via the storyteller. The first stories were told and retold through word-of-mouth. Eventually, the storyteller wrote them down, functioning as the only reliable source of man’s history.

As man evolved becoming more sophisticated, the contribution of the storyteller has been devalued. Yet, the preservation of man’s history through storytelling is as important to man’s future as the preservation of one’s natural resources to man’s existence.

The stories told here add to our knowledge of a fascinating region and a way of life nearly forgotten. Jay Mondy should be congratulated for compiling these stories that preserve this part of our history."

Carolyn Smith

Poplar Bluff, Missouri

Time to Lay By has about 140 stories for entertainment and enlightenment. There are stories for all occasions, stories lost in the pages of the past. You will enjoy them.

Delores Pratt

Harrison, Arkansas

Introduction

The Ozark Mountains contain natural beauty, a wilderness and a rigorous lifestyle. It was formed from ancient sea beds and now rest on a vast plateau, touching seven states: Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Kentucky, Illinois and Tennessee. The highest range is the Arkansas’s Boston Mountains, within the Ozark Range, measures only 2,578 feet. The Ozarks contain fifty thousand square miles of rugged and lovely landscape. Southern Missouri has the Lion’s Share, more than thirty thousand square miles. The vast, remaining square miles of the Ozark Mountains are located in North Central Arkansas and Eastern Oklahoma.

"The Ozarks begin in Illinois and Kentucky and stretch across two states to almost Tulsa, Oklahoma. Five major rivers (Mississippi, Osage, Missouri, Neosho and the Arkansas) form their boundaries and there are more free-flowing streams here than anywhere in the United States. The limestone nature of the soil makes possible other wonders – a vast bubbling fresh springs and more caves (at least seven thousand are known) than any other place in the world.

There is no place on earth to match this area. The pioneer lifestyles that exist off the main roads and back in the hills are not for everyone. The Ozarks, in fact, are for something almost lost to fast-paced Americans – the slow, enjoyable sipping sights, sounds and scenery. Late April finds hill tapestried with white dogwoods and pink redbud trees, while the earth sparkles with a million floral jewels: Verbena, Golden Rod, Jack-in-the-Pulpit, Tiger Lily, Wild Roses and Wild Sweet William."

There have been many true and authentic stories printed in many newspapers, books and magazines about Ozark Mountain people. This book will cover many of those stories going back years and years. The vast, vast majority of the stories found in this book are in the confines of an in the foothills of the Ozarks and are worthy of publishing. The stories in this book awakens us, the readers, to some unique and unusual history of by-gone days.

Jay Mondy, Author

Chapter One

UNIQUE STORIES

I CAN READ YOUR MIND

Fisk, Mo.

During a teacher’s tenure in public school education for thirty years, any teacher will meet unique and unusual students at sometime under unusual circumstances. Let’s roll the clock back to the school year 1951-1952, fifty years ago. It was my good fortune to have been involved with a marvelous student in a most unusual way.

A fifth grade student, Sharon Hughes, moved from California into the home of her grandparents on Route 1, Fisk, Missouri, and into the Pleasant Hill School District, a country school, grades 1-8. The school contained two rooms. The student was a beautiful, intelligent girl with charcoal black hair, dark brown eyes and a warm and pleasant personality.

The first day in our school Sharon was reserved, somewhat shy, but she slowly got acquainted with other students in my room. I soon discovered the California student was even or above the grade level in all subjects except Arithmetic.

Sharon was about three weeks behind, according to where she was in arithmetic, when she departed California and where my fifth grade students were working when she arrived. I explained to Sharon about our Arithmetic text and workbook. I told her I lend her a workbook. She could work in it after school hours, turn in her book to be checked and, if she had any difficulty, she was to let me know.

The following day, shortly after the school bell had sounded and classes commenced, Sharon approached me and said, Guess how many pages I worked in the book last night?

The first number that entered my mind was four and I said, Four.

Sharon said, That’s right. How did you know?

I immediately decided to have some fun with the young lady. I told her about ESP (extra sensory perception) and about mental telepathy and said, Don’t ever think any unpleasant thoughts about me for I’ll know what they are. I can read your mind.

Sharon replied, No, you can’t. Later in the morning she approached me again. As she was nearing my desk, her eyes went to Washington’s and Lincoln’s pictures hanging on the walls just above the blackboard. She stopped immediately in front of my disk and said, If you can read my mind, tell me what I ‘m thinking of now.

I immediately pointed to the two pictures and said, Those pictures on the wall. I really had gotten her attention this time. Again I remarked, Don’t ever think any evil thoughts of me, for I can read your mind.

She asked, Mr. Mondy, seriously, how did you know?

I attempted once again to remind her of my ESP. Later in the day, I looked at her and knew she was questioning my ability and was going to catch up with me and my imaginary ESP. It was a matter of time. When?

It was a warm, sunny day with a fine mist of rainfall in the air. I knew Sharon’s grandparents lived on a sand hill, three-quarters of a mile from the old school. She was so intrigued and suspicious that she once again raised her hand and asked if she might speak with me. I granted her permission and she quickly hurried to my desk.

Sharon immediately stated, I’ll believe you can read my mind if you can tell me this time what I am thinking.

I replied, I know what you are thinking about. When you get home today you’re going to change clothes, go out on the hillside and play in the sand while the misty rain is falling.

I had scored again! A feather would have knocked Sharon to the floor! It was all in fun, was fascinating and perhaps enjoyable for the two of us. Shortly the school year ended. Sharon spent the summer months with her grandparents and then moved back to California.

Since 1952, I have neither seen nor heard from the beautiful, young lady with the inquisitive mind, but my ESP tells me Sharon has had a successful and rewarding life.

Jay Mondy

Wappapello, Mo.

December 2000

FAITHFUL AS A YELLOW DOG

The Graphic But Devoting Tribute of an

Arkansan to His Deceased Wife

Ozark Mountains, Ark.

Rev. Sam Jones is not a stickler for clerical dignity and can see much from piety even among the loudest of those about him, says the Chicago Chronicle. A friend traveling with him recently asked, What was the sweetest funeral sermon you ever heard?

Well, Mr. Jones replied, "I was riding along a bridle path in Arkansas and off the road a little ways I saw a number of horses tied to the scrub trees near a little log cabin back a ways from the road. They were mostly saddle horses, though some were hitched to buckboards and wagons.

I dismounted and tied up. I knew it was one of two things, a funeral or a wedding. As I entered the cabin there were a number of natives sitting around the four walls of the rooms and in the middle near a plain board coffin, which had been hewn out of a natural log, was a man I knew. He was the husband, for I knew their habits, and it was the fashion for the husband to make the funeral oration in the absence of the preacher.

I was unknown and did not care to disturb their services.

Presently he arose and said: Fren’s, you all know I’m not much on speakin’, but you all kno’d Suke. She was jest as faithful to me as a yaller dawg under a wagon, and he sat down in silence and tears.

"There is a certain kind of dog in Arkansas, which trots under the wagon of the natives whenever they go to town and when they hitch up to the rack, the dog is told to watch the wagon and no one, except the master, can come within 30 feet of the wagon without being bitten to the bone.

A few weeks prior to the occurrence related, a man had been summoned on the jury at the county seat. He expected to be excused on account of a sick wife but was made to serve, and when he started, he told the dog to watch the wagon". The men of this town managed to take the horses out and put them in a livery stable, but the dog would not stir and ten days later, when the master returned, he found his dog dead under the wagon.

So when this husband said his wife was as faithful as a ‘Yaller dog under a wagon’ he paid her the highest compliment he possibly could.

The Daily Republican

Poplar Bluff, Mo.

September 7, 1900

MOUNTAINEERS KEEP PLEDGES

Harrison, Ark.

Out of the Boston Mountains of Newton, Arkansas’ single county not touched by railroads, sometimes drift strange tales concerning the unbroken faith of pioneer ancestors – and of the swift justice of simple home loving people, whose knowledge of things outside is little and whose curiosity of such is even less.

One of these tales was related recently by United States Deputy Marshall Lark Shaffer of this city on his return from Newton County with four brothers, Bob, Columbus, Verlin and Levis Farmer, charged with the manufacture and sale of liquor.

The brothers, all men with families, and their father, Tom Farmer, a well-to-do but eccentric individual, live in Red Rock neighborhood on Big Creek in the ragged western portion of Newton County. The officer entered into the neighborhood as far as possible in his Ford, but finally was obliged to forsake the car and proceed on foot. The men lived at different places and when Marshal Shaffer had made his round, he found himself in charge of four strapping mountaineers, accused outlaws but uncontentious. Darkness was falling; he was several miles from his car and many miles from home.

Spends Night With Men’s Father

Under these circumstances, the officer felt he could not do otherwise than seek lodging for the night for himself and his charges. With his party, he turned his steps toward the only farm house in sight to ask for hospitality and was not deterred by the information, for this residence was the home of the father of his prisoners.

To the senior Farmer was explained the circumstances and lodging was asked. The officer was received kindly and invited into the house, a small rude structure, to talk the matter over. The request for quarters was granted with apologies for the lack of facilities for comfort. The housing of five for the night, in addition to the aged couple, presented something of a problem, was self-evident.

After offering to render such accommodation as was possible, Farmer Sr. ventured a seemingly impertinent suggestion to the officer – the man who held in the toils of the law his four and only sons. He suggested the marshal release them for the night, each to return home and spend the night with his family and to accept the word of honor of each son and the father. All would report early the next morning. Mr. Shaffer would spend the night in the only spare room in the father’s home.

The officer was confronted with an unusual circumstance, and on him was the responsibility of making no mistake in his decision. With an ability to judge human nature, gained from many years experience in dealing with me, he was led to believe he would accept at par the pledge of honor of his newly made acquaintances, and he accordingly complied with the suggestion.

Prisoners Report Back

Arising early, after a comfortable night’s rest, Marshal Shaffer received into custody anew the first of his paroled men at 5 o’clock and the last of the four reported an hour later, all prepared to accompany the law to Harrison to answer the charges placed against them. After breakfast, the party started on the journey over the long tedious miles to the foothills and on into Harrison, where they had not been for years past and doubtless had not expected to be for years to come.

They were presented before Federal Commissioner Stapleton, and each told his own story in his own words. Of the four, one pleaded guilty, two pleaded not guilty and the fourth was discharged for lack of evidence. Satisfactory bond was made by the three, and the long wearisome trail Home to our Mountains – back to the heart of the Bostons was taken up.

Last January, Mr. Shaffer started one day for the same neighborhood and armed with a warrant of arrest for one Joe Farmer, charged with the same offense – the making of and dealing in liquor. On reaching a country store in the Red Rock vicinity, the officer made inquiry after the man sought and there learned from the mountaineer merchant how the man named in his warrant, a youth several months previously had come home on day, crazed by the effects of drinking moonshine whiskey and armed with a loaded shotgun and threatened to kill his aged parents. While leveling the gun at his hysterical mother, the youth was shot down by his own father in his own home, and his lifeless body lay where it fell – a quotation of the price at which mountain-made liquor is bartered.

Joe Farmer, the fifth and youngest son of Tom Farmer, was buried in the neighborhood burial ground, and the warrant of arrest on which his name appeared was returned unserved.

The Daily Republican

Poplar Bluff, MO

April 28, 1924

BLUE MAN OF SPRING CREEK

Strange Legend of Ozark Mountains

Douglas County, Mo.

The story of The Blue Man of Spring Creek, has been current in the rough regions in the eastern part of Douglas County, MO, for 60 years. It is a genuine Ozark legend, and, if the testimony of scores of men during all these years is to be accepted, the legend is absolutely true.

It was in the winter of 1865, a noted hunter of that part of the Ozarks by the name of Sol Collins, was on the ridge that forms the watershed between the Big North Fork and Spring Creek. There was snow on the ground and Collins, was utilizing it to trail the game, with which the hills abounded. Suddenly, among the many tracks with which he was familiar, he came upon one such as he had never seen before. There were bears in the Ozarks in those days, and the hunter had trailed and slain many a one of them in his time. This track looked somewhat like that of a bear, but if it was made by a bear then certainly here was the largest of the tribe that ever roamed the Ozark hills. In the deep snow the great foot prints were longer and broader than those of any bear Collins had ever seen, and at each side of the tracks were marks in the snow such as might have been made by long claws.

The hunter at once took up the trail, determined to kill the biggest bear in Ozark history. For hours he kept on tirelessly following those great foot prints. Far away to the north, almost to Indian Creek, then in a wide semi-circle to the west, until he was close above the Big North Fork. Still up hill and down, the seemingly endless chase continued.

At last, he was climbing the north slope of Upper Twin Mountain, he heard a noise on the hillside above him, and looking up, was barely in time to leap to one side and allow a great boulder to seep past him and crash into the depths of the valley. Another quickly followed the first, and Collins was glad to spring out of its path and shelter himself behind a big post oak. As he did so, the third boulder struck fairly against the tree and was hurled with such force, it was shattered into fragments. The startled hunter ventured to peer cautiously from his shelter, to learn from whence this avalanche of boulder came. That which he saw fairly froze the blood in his veins for there, on the hillside, towered a gigantic figure shaped like an immense man, stark naked except for the skin of some animal around its wait and other wrappings around its feet. The creature was covered from head to foot with a tightly curling coarse of short black hair which, as the sun struck upon it, took on a dark blue hue. Collins always claimed the giant was not less than nine feet tall, and his estimate is among the least of many made by other men in the years to follow.

Fled For His Life

The hunter stared only long enough to make these observations before the creature cast aside the great ten foot club he carried and tore out another boulder from the frozen ground and hurled it with such deadly aim that, again, the tree was struck and the rock shattered and, as he hurled the rock, the giant lifted up his voice and made the hills echo and re-echo with an ear-splitting scream more terrifying than ever came from any wild beast that roams the woods.

This was enough for Collins! He was no coward and had creditably borne his part during the years of the Civil War, but he never denied that after this one look and that horrible scream, eh took to his heels and fled for his life.

The hunter made it his business to gather several of his neighbors, sturdy hill men like himself, and for several days they put in most of their time following the tracks of the giant. Time and again they caught glimpses of him at a distance, going through the woods at a speed that once left his pursuers far behind, but no man was able to get within rifle shot of the creature. For two or three weeks the hunt continued almost every day without result. The wild man was seen by numbers of people and the occupants of more than one lonely cabin were awakened at dead of night by the most blood-curdling yells and shrieks in the dark woods, and when day dawned would find sheep had been carried away or a pig stolen from the pen. The hunters found bloody fragments of the animals thus carried off, but the giant himself was never found.

After the first appearance of the Blue Man, as he was now called, he disappeared for nine years. Then, when most people who had not seen him had decided the whole story was a fake, in the autumn of 1874, the work passed through the hills, the Blue Man had returned. Again sheep and swine were caught and devoured, again did men organize and hunt through the hills in a vain endeavor to capture or slay the creature and, again he escaped them all and after creating